


Is it sick to want?

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Splitted Queen Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:39:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: SQ Lyric prompt (if you choose to): "Is it sick of me; To want you crawling on your knees; Is it sick to say; I want you biting down on me" In This Moment 'Sick Like Me' Asked by orahlee via tumblr------------“When? When you had me pinned against the wall? Asking me if all of this was real?”They both pretended not to no notice the slip up, the moment she wasn’t referring to Regina as the other part of herself but as “her” as her whole self. But was still there and Emma almost groaned as she sighed and listened, the next questions coming far quicker than the previous ones, raising in pitch as they came.“When you came for me, wanting to talk and you eyed me in the middle of the kitchen, pretending not to ogle me? When you screamed at me after admitting you had magic?”And how intoxicating that had felt.





	Is it sick to want?

**Author's Note:**

> Set on: Splitted Queen arc, in some sort of time pocket.

She was seated in almost the exact position Emma had remembered her far too many times on, far more -she thought while shrugging off her jacket and placing the gun on top of her desk- than she felt ready to admit. Hands on the edge of the desk, legs slightly bent and crossed by the knee and ass placed into one of their spare desks, Regina looked imposing. The dress, was red, tight, snug. She looked regal on the glimmering jewels sewed on it, each one reflecting the lights that blinked above them as Emma sighed and licked her lips.

A detail that wasn’t missed by the Queen as she smirked, all smugness as she cocked her head to one side, letting her hair fall slightly, grazing her skin while brown eyes narrowed, a sort of secret glowing at the back, between the dots of color Emma was able to see as she stared at the woman. Unmoving.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to appear.” The Queen’s words were laced with mockery, the vowels getting dragged between her lips as she pouted, the red on them seeming almost blood as she curved them lopsidedly, bending forward enough to pronounce the already plunging neckline of the dress. “But here are you.”

Emma swallowed and shook her head, just slightly, as she tried to make out whatever the Queen was trying to achieve. The tardiness of the hour, reflected on the darkness outside briefly broken by the orange lights of the lampposts and the tiredness that had fallen upon all inhabitants of Storybrooke after a day of searching enough space for the newcomers from the realm of the untold stories, said quite a lot of her timing. Almost as if it had been perfectly orchestrated.

The thought, alongside with the brief idea of calling the actual Regina, came to a stop as the Queen stood and sauntered towards her, hips swaying as her smile transformed from mocking to feral to finally settle for hungry. A look the blonde could remember from her brief yet intense time travel trip and one that made her nibble the inside of her bottom lip as the Queen approached her, brown eyes glimmering.

“Here I am.” She finally spoke, voice slightly breathless, slightly broken. She, however, waited for the Queen to be close enough to raise both hands, effectively stopping the older woman with a small yet clear “Stop.”

A command, she knew, didn’t truly sound very convincing. The queen laughed at it but answered to the plea, that fact alone making Emma tremble as she, unconsciously, thought about someone else who wouldn’t have stopped. A trait she had learnt to take as normal these days.

Pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment before focusing into the Queen once again, she denoted the lack of magical buzzing around her. Something she, too, had felt from Regina; an off-vibe, a lack of something. Realizing she was staring and the Queen herself had already realized it, she merely repeated the same plea than before.

“Why should I? You want this.”

The brutal honesty of the words was reminiscent of a woman Emma had known years ago now, a woman who had stared down at her, tried to destroy her and yet built a connection with her under the pretense that everything was for the boy, the teen, she hoped for him to be already asleep. Something she would probably be doing as well if it wasn’t because the home she had dubbed as hers felt more like a prison each day that it passed. Sucking on her teeth and not finding anything else better to do, she mimicked the position the Queen had just been in; with less poise perhaps, with less grace, but still confident enough to gather a chuckle from the older woman.

Emma wondered why she wasn’t already calling for the cavalry, calling for Regina. The reason, albeit difficult to explain, was easy enough to accept and so she kept silent, mulling the abrasive words and the truth behind them. A truth that she knew neither her or the other Regina would have ever discussed. Not like this in the middle of the night at the sheriff station with far too few hours of sleep while tipping around a line they had both tried to pretend they weren’t building as everything became more complicated while time had passed.

Running a hand down her hair and looking straightly at the brunette woman, she took the bait and spit the next words in quick succession, the staleness on her mouth enough to make her wonder how long she had been thinking on saying them. A detail, she admitted, it didn’t longer matter.

“I want it and that’s another discussion; I want this and I want all of you, Regina…”

The Queen, who hadn’t moved from her previous spot, took a step towards her, all fury and might behind her eyes and yet her magic still too pale, too bland while pulsing on those same flecks Emma could make out of her pupils.

“Don’t call me that.”

The blonde almost laughed at that, at the sheer venom on the Queen’s voice, at the hurt and the pain that resided beneath it. She almost did but she didn’t at the end; remembering all too well a similar feeling when she hadn’t been the savior anymore but the dark one. The seductive ideas of her darker self were still strong on some parts of her mind, coming out to whisper when she least expected them to come. She wondered, or tried to at least, if that was what the Queen had been for Regina; a string of incoherent words that kept on saying the truths Emma herself pretended she didn’t know.

Like the fact that The Queen didn’t hate Regina, like the fact that she knew the brunette hadn’t come to seduce her. They both knew that had already occurred, as much as neither Regina or Emma had done something about it.

“I won’t then, but you are Regina.”

Her voice was steady, far steadier than she truly felt and yet, despite the shakiness coming from the uncomfortable realization of not being strong enough as the woman causing havoc was in front of her while she didn’t do a thing about it, she felt strong. Stronger than she had been feeling lately with everything that came with the truth, the fact, that she wasn’t in love with the man she had just put her entire family in risk for.

The brunette narrowed her eyes and moved even forward, almost mirroring the stance Regina had approached in one forgotten apartment, hands close to her shoulders, the request of a hug all but forgotten as Emma had pretended in that moment to not understand. The Queen in front of her, however, didn’t go for a hug but, instead, she settled on closing almost all space between the two of them, her hands falling into Emma’s, freeing them from their grasp to the edge of the table -where they had fallen as soon as she had finished with twiddling with her hair- and interlacing her fingers with hers in a far too intimidate movement. One Emma almost wanted to move away from it if it wasn’t for the desk itself.

“You realize what you are saying.”

Her words didn’t hold any heat so Emma merely shrugged at them, noticing once again how truth clawed its way up her throat, spilling itself as she found herself far too tired -or too lucid- to stop it as would normally do.

_“It’s not like she didn’t know this already.”_

“I do. I know what I’m saying, I know what I want.” That last part got her chuckling darkly, freeing herself from The Queen’s hold and staring at their still quite close hands, at the way she could feel warmth radiating from her own, want written on every strained muscle of her body. “And yet my own dark version had a brighter understanding of what I wanted than I do sometimes.”

The docks; that had been a conversation her mind had been conflicted about. About how much pain she could convey on her words, how much longing and wishful thinking she could put into her thoughts as she let the dark one’s desire run rampant through her. How far would have she go? Would have she kept the idea of the dark one instead of reverting back to the savior?

Would have she asked to Regina to join her?

She would have said no, for her, for Emma, for, ultimately, Henry. Yet, the idea had felt tempting when she had wondered about it, glancing at the inside of Granny’s and half wondering if Regina would welcome her in the same way she had invited her all those years ago.

“Then why are you telling me this?”

It was said haughtily, almost coldly but Emma always knew when the brunette was lying and having her split in two didn’t mean that that particular power was faulty for her. The wondering, the doubt, was there and for a second The Queen sounded and felt far younger than Regina’s actual age. The face of the Queen the brunette had first needed to acquire all those years ago. The mirage was quickly destroyed however, by Emma’s next words as she eased herself from Regina’s hold, stepping to her left and crossing her hands loosely in front of her as the brunette resumed her previous stance.

“You make me think of how things were before…”

She was violently interrupted by the other woman’s cackle, her voice raising as well as she lifted her chin, suddenly rawer than before.

“When? When you had me pinned against the wall? Asking me if all of this was real?”

They both pretended not to no notice the slip up, the moment she wasn’t referring to Regina as the other part of herself but as “her” as her whole self. But was still there and Emma almost groaned as she sighed and listened, the next questions coming far quicker than the previous ones, raising in pitch as they came.

“When you came for me, wanting to talk and you eyed me in the middle of the kitchen, pretending not to ogle me? When you screamed at me after admitting you had magic?”

And how intoxicating that had felt. Emma thought, remembering not only that but the moment the brunette had eyed her, many months after that first time only to say to her how vast her potential actually was. How good had it felt to feel surrounded by Regina’s power, how exhilarating had been to create an eclipse. Her thoughts were shot by the next questions, Regina leaving her place at the desk and approaching her again, lips parting in that bloody red, now slightly stained, less than perfect.

“That’s how you want me? Or you prefer when I hit you? Hurt you? Mark you?”

Her voice was like honey now, a perfect counterpoint to the memories she brought with her words. Her hands were already reaching for Emma’s neck, ghostling against her pulse point and the blonde felt herself blush as she swallowed down a moan, the very thought of wanting, of needing Regina -this Regina- this much, making her mind reel.

Her next words, however, came down, cascading, pouring out of her, unabashedly as she locked eyes with the brunette. Thinking, for a moment, how would be to kiss the brunette, to give in.

 “I want that as much as I wanted it when we fought together for Henry, when you gave me a happy ending in the middle of nowhere about to be swallowed by a curse. When I almost told you how important you were to me and I chickened out. I want that and the way you eyed Henry when we got back, full of love, the way you looked at me at the town line again, burning.”

And burning she felt as she wanted and fought against that very same want. The Queen, instead of shocked, merely smiled, -softer this time- before disappearing in a puff of purple smoke.

_“I want you.”_

And Emma didn’t know how to feel about it anymore.


End file.
